


Divine Right

by Magicath_420



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Established Relationship, Historically accurate!! As much as plot/wikipedia will allow, M/M, Protective Arthur, original lore set in canon, period-typical Christianity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24123700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicath_420/pseuds/Magicath_420
Summary: A guest spends Christmas at Camelot, and imparts on Uther the importance of keeping servants in their place.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 66
Kudos: 312





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO, I haven’t interacted with the Merlin fandom in years, but this has been my favorite show since I was 12 years old and I want to make other people feel the way it makes me feel, so here’s my very best attempt at that. This is gonna be a long one, but I’m committed to it, it’s got an outline and everything. I’m also VERY committed to making it historically accurate, as in, googling when trumpets were invented and then googling the website I got that information from to make sure it’s credible even though trumpets are literally only mentioned in one single throwaway line (that’s also why there’s so much Christianity in it, cause like, c’mon, it’s the Arthurian legend. I never understood why canon always pretended like medieval England wasn’t aggressively Christian). All my deepest desires and favorite daydreams have always had at least something to do with castles and knights and sword fights, so I hope y’all enjoy whatever I can translate onto paper from that.

Merlin had a problem. Well, Camelot had a problem, but it was especially bad for Merlin. 

It was the first week of Advent, and the servants were already preparing for the Christmas feast. Even with the extra work, three days of fast per week, and abstinence from meat, dairy, and alcohol, Advent was usually a cheerful time around the castle. The knights were home with their families, madrigals rang through the halls, and even the most serious priests were preaching joy in their homilies. This year, however, a shadow had fallen over the festivities. Arthur has just confirmed the rumor that Merlin had heard simmering in the servants’ chambers for a while- the Duke of Wales would be spending Christmas at Camelot. 

The Duke of Wales was Uther’s childhood best friend. A tall, severe man with a forked red beard cut square at the bottom, he was known among the peasantry as a mean old tyrant, but unfortunately, among royalty, as a good friend. Merlin had heard the servants whisper of his fondness for floggings, and, on the other hand, spent many long days listening to Arthur mock Uther’s blind admiration of the man’s bravado. 

“Honestly,” Arthur was saying this morning as Merlin helped him put his armor on. “You would think the man had singlehandedly won the Holy Land from the way my father speaks of him.”

“You would think he had singlehandedly lost it from the way the servants talk.” Merlin muttered.

“Oh, they haven’t been going on about his _strength_ and his _command of a room_ , have they? Well, I’m surprised.”

“Oh, there’s been talk of his strength, alright.”

Arthur looked over at him, hearing the gravity in his tone. 

“What do you mean?”

“I heard he once broke the wrist of a 14 year old serving boy for accidentally splashing ale on his jacket. And that he had a cook flogged for burning the boar on the Epiphany last year.”

“From whom,” Arthur asked carefully, “A drunkard in the tavern?”

Merlin lifted his gaze from the strap he was fastening on Arthur’s shoulder.

“From the boy and his mother, sire.”

“Really?” Arthur whispered, horrified.

Merlin nodded seriously. Indignity, anger, and finally concern flashed across Arthur’s face. He clapped a hand on Merlin’s shoulder affectionately, and sighed. 

“This man goes around... bullying and- and torturing _children_ , and my father sings his praises?”

Merlin looked away. He didn’t think that this friendship was particularly out of character for the tyrant that had exiled or killed all of Merlin’s people, but Arthur... well, fathers can be complicated. Merlin understood; that’s why he didn’t push the issue.

“I’m going to talk to him.” Arthur said. 

“That’ll only make things worse for us.”

Arthur slapped down the document he was holding with all the force of his righteous frustration. “I won’t let this man terrorize my castle for an entire Advent. Who the hell does he think he is?”

“It’s not _your_ castle yet, first of all. And he _thinks_ he’s a divinely appointed nobleman in the home of a friend, which he _is_. Seriously, Arthur,” Merlin implored, “Leave it alone.”

Merlin wasn’t technically allowed to address him like this. Royalty, the divinely appointed, weren’t to be spoken to so directly; he technically wasn’t even supposed to touch Arthur. If Uther ever heard how they talked to each other behind closed doors, he would probably have Merlin hung for the familiarity. Arthur never seemed to mind, though; Merlin had always suspected that it was because nobody else was quite as honest with the Crown Prince as he was. 

To be completely fair though, it could also be because they were sleeping together. Oh, the things that Uther didn’t know. 

“Fine.” Arthur said. “But I want you to tell me if he’s abusing servants while he’s here. I won’t do anything rash, but I will not be told to stand by and do nothing, either.”

Merlin smiled. “How noble of you.”

“Shut up. Go get the horses ready, we’re going hunting.”

“You know that’s not my job.”

“Pretty sure your job is to take orders.”

“Does that imply your only job is to give them?”

“It _implies_ you’re terrible at your job. _Go_.”

Arthur gave him a little shove towards the door and Merlin laughed, allowing himself to rock along with the motion for a few steps. Halfway to the door, his eyes flashed gold and he whispered an incantation, pulling the hood of Arthur’s tunic down over his eyes comically. 

“I could have you executed for that, you know.”

“Add it to the list.”

*** 

Wales arrived the next day right after Mass. There was a big show of trumpeters and formalities, during which Merlin stood at Arthur’s side and tried very hard not to roll his eyes. 

“Uther!” Wales declared in a great, booming voice. “It’s been too long, my friend.”

“Far too long.” Uther agreed, shaking his hand. “Allow me re-introduce my son, Arthur.”

“By the Virgin, last time I was here, the lad hadn’t even been Confirmed.” Wales said, shaking Arthur’s hand as well. “How are you, boy?” 

“Very well, thank you.” Arthur returned politely. “I’d like to introduce my manservant, Merlin. The chamberlain has assigned him to your comfort for the length of your stay; he will be able to attend to anything you need.”

Wales looked Merlin up and down, furrowing his brow.

“This is your servant?”

Arthur frowned, thrown off by the Duke’s obvious disdain. “Um, yes. I can assure you, he’s very capable-”

“The boy looks remarkably well-fed.”

There was an awkward beat of silence while Arthur struggled to come up with an appropriate response. “We have- uh- we have had a very fortunate harvest this year, and-”

Wales held up a hand to stop Arthur, addressing Uther instead. “We ought to have a talk about your distributive policies, Uther. It seems you’ve gotten soft in your old age.”

Uther laughed agreeably, as if the man hadn’t just implied that he should be recreationally starving Merlin and the rest of the servants. “All in good time, William. Come in, leave the servants to their work. We’ve prepared the most wonderful feast for your arrival,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “you almost wouldn’t believe it’s Advent.”

Arthur followed the rest of the nobles inside, lagging behind just long enough to exchange a look with Merlin that seemed to convey timid amusement at Wales’ ridiculously overt authoritarian demeanor. Merlin gave him a wry smile back, somewhere between _Told you so_ and _This is terrifying_. And it was, but Merlin could only be so scared with Arthur around, so he returned the prince’s amusement as much as his timidity.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple of things I forgot!  
> 1) I’m going to be using “my lord” for all the nobles/royal even though it’s not historically accurate cause that’s what they do in canon and I’ve become endeared to the way it sounds.  
> 2) Standardized spelling is a relatively new thing so some of the lesser known knights from the original legend might have multiple accepted spellings of their names (Gwaine is a great example of this) so don’t judge me for picking one at random and sticking with it  
> 3) Etherealle is pronounced like the word ‘ethereal’ but with an accent on the second syllable  
> 4) I use the word “Saracen” in this chapter. It’s for historical accuracy, but if it’s personally offensive to you and it detracts from your enjoyment of the fic, leave me a comment and I won’t use it again.

“Excuse me.” said a voice from behind Merlin. He turned to see a young man struggling under the weight of a huge iron chest. “Can you show us where the Duke will be staying, please?”

“Of course. Here, let me help you with that.” He said, grabbing one side of the chest (it weighed as much as a man, possibly more; he blew on it gently with magic and as much of the burden as he could pass off as his own strength was lifted). “I’m Merlin.”

“Jonathan.” The man said. “This is Benjamin,” he pointed to an older man leading Wales’ horse to a stable boy standing nearby, “and Etherealle.” The latter was a young woman, about Jonathan’s age and almost his height as well. She smiled warmly upon her introduction. 

Merlin showed Wales’ three servants to the Duke’s chambers, and then to their own. He noticed the way they fidgeted nervously in Wales’ room, heads bowed in submission and fear even though the Duke was nowhere to be seen. Even Merlin’s assurances that the feast would surely last all night, and Wales would be well occupied for hours yet, did nothing to calm their nerves. 

Although she displayed the same fear, Merlin noticed that the woman- Etherealle, Jonathan had said her name was, seemed markably more cheerful than the other two, despite the tedious work she had begun of scrubbing the floor. While Jonathan grumbled his way through the laundry, and Benjamin unpacked Wales’ things silently, Etherealle smiled and sang quietly to herself as she toiled away.

Merlin left them to their work and went downstairs to serve, finding the feast well on its way already. Uther and Wales sat at the head of the table, talking and laughing, while Arthur and the knights filled the rest of the hall with chatter. Merlin and Gwen stood along the wall, occasionally refilling glasses and taking bets on which of the knights would end up in fist fights with one another before the night was through. 

“Gwaine always picks fights, though, it’s practically a given.” Gwen was saying. 

“Yes, but everyone knows that, so all the knights avoid him at the end of the night. I’m telling you, it’s going to be Percival and Bellevedere tonight, they’ve been at each other’s throats ever since the joust at that tournament-”

“First of all, that joust was fixed, and Bellevedere knows it; he’s only putting up a fight for the show of it. There might not even be any fights tonight, most of the knights aren’t drinking.”

“Ah, of course, how else would we know how noble they are?” Merlin teased. “It is interesting an question, though, if you think about it: God doesn’t want us to drink during Advent, but Uther’s the one who ordered us to serve mead tonight. If the royal bloodline was appointed by God, what do we do when they differ?”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Uther’s about as much of a divine mouthpiece as the Saracens in the south.”

“Well, yes, but I mean, in theory-”

Merlin was interrupted by a booming voice, already slurring its words. 

“You there! Boy!” This was how Wales had been addressing all the servants, volume increasing as the mead flowed. “Do you see this cup?”

Merlin walked over and bowed his head in deference, figuring it was safest to adopt as submissive an appearance as possible. “Yes, my lord.”

“And do you see how it is empty?”

“I apologize, my lord, allow me.”

Merlin refilled the cup, bowed, and began to back away. It wasn’t customary in Camelot, but technically, the royal code forbid any subject to turn their back on their rulers, and Merlin guessed that any rule that served to lord power over an inferior was of the upmost importance to the Duke. Wales looked down at his cup, now full, for a second, then stood up and threw the whole thing in Merlin’s face. 

Merlin spluttered and tripped backwards in surprise as Wales began to scream at him. “My CUP ran EMPTY! Your sole purpose on this planet is to serve your betters, and you can’t even do that!”

Merlin was too shocked to muster much of a response, except to resist the fury he felt rising in him so he didn’t turn Wales into a goddamn mosquito in front of the entire royal court. 

Wales took another step forward, apparently unsatisfied by Merlin’s reaction. Arthur stood. 

“That’s enough.” he said firmly, putting himself between Wales and Merlin. 

The knights had all stopped talking now, and the hall was uncomfortably quiet. Gwaine had stood from his chair the second Wales has raised his voice, but now made eye contact with Arthur and didn’t approach.

Uther, who had seemed as startled as the rest of them at first, was laughing now. “Oh, please, Arthur, don’t make a scene.”

Arthur looked at him incredulously. “Father, you can’t possibly-”

“It’s all in good fun, boy.” Uther spoke over him. “We’ve all had a bit too much ale tonight, and besides, William is right to be angry when the staff neglects their duties. He’s a traditional man, and quite frankly, your servant is an idiot, Arthur.”

“Don’t talk about him like he’s not here.” Gwaine said loudly. Uther turned to him, a dangerous look in his eye. 

“...my lord.” Gwaine tacked on unconvincingly. 

“Merlin didn’t do anything wrong.” Arthur said, directing Uther’s attention back to himself. 

Unfortunately for Arthur, it worked. 

“The Duke is our _guest_.” Uther spat. “And your servant has upset him. He’s within his rights, his _divine_ rights, to address that in whichever way he chooses. Sit down, and show some manners, or I’ll relinquish the boy’s charge to someone who is actually capable of controlling him.”

Arthur glared at his father, but under threat of losing Merlin, said nothing. Wales seemed encouraged by Uther’s support. “You ought to listen to your father, son. The servants in this castle are entirely out of order; I’ve no idea what’s gotten into the lower classes these days. There needs to be some reminder of the Lord’s hierarchy here in Camelot, certainly in time for Christmas.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Uther echoed.

Arthur rolled his eyes visibly, but sat back down. He shot a forlorn glance over to where Merlin was still trying to dry the mead from his hair, and Merlin caught his eyes, but they couldn’t do more than exchange grimaces in the crowded hall. 

As infuriated and indignant as Merlin was, he couldn’t say he was surprised. From the stories he had heard, and what he had observed for himself today, he had gotten off easy by only being humiliated, and not harmed. 


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur remained at the feast long after most of the knights had retired. Uther was clearly happy that he had seemingly warmed to Wales, as Arthur (after sulking, scowling and glowering for an hour or so) spent the remainder of the night talking and laughing with the man; and Merlin was happy to go safely unnoticed in the background, which he figured was the real reason for Arthur’s desire to soak up so much of the Duke’s attention. 

Arthur didn’t leave the table until Wales had gone upstairs. Merlin and Gwen cleaned up, taking their time after the last nobleman had gone to bed to vent their full frustration at their treatment under the heal of the Duke, and Merlin didn’t get back to Arthur’s chamber until the moon was already more than halfway across the sky. 

Despite the late hour, Arthur was up when he walked in, pacing back and forth across the room.

“Hey,” Merlin said, interrupting his reverie. 

“Hey,” he returned heavily. 

Merlin continued across Arthur’s path and sat on his bed, grabbing one of the boots sitting nearby on the floor and beginning to polish it absentmindedly. Arthur sat down next to Merlin and put a hand on his shoulder, not quite able to meet his eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m just-” Merlin sighed. “I’m frustrated. And scared, for all the other people who are servants. I mean, I have to take his abuse in public, but he can’t actually hurt me. Not everyone has that safety.”

“He’s not going to hurt anyone.”

“Arthur-”

“No. I outrank him, Merlin.”

“You don’t outrank your father,” Merlin said quietly. 

Arthur turned his whole body sideways on the bed to face him. Merlin looked up and raised his eyebrows: _Tell me I’m wrong._

Arthur ran a thumb over Merlin’s jaw and sighed. “My father... can be a fool. But I won’t let him give Wales the power to hurt you. Any of you. Wales is still a guest in Camelot, and at the end of the day, he’s still just a duke. He still defers to me.”

Merlin hummed in agreement. Then he added with a smirk, “Wonder what that must be like.”

Arthur snorted. “Yeah, you wouldn’t know.”

Merlin dropped the boot he was holding just in time to catch Arthur’s hands as he reached for Merlin’s face. He laughed and leaned forward to kiss Arthur, who pushed him back onto the bed with faux aggression. He leaned forward, and Merlin stopped him with a flick of his wrist when their faces were about an inch apart. 

“Maybe you could show me,” Merlin whispered. Arthur’s smile faded into a more serious look of desire and Merlin dropped the spell.

Arthur held Merlin’s hands down on the bed and kissed him, strong and slow. At least, until Merlin started to laugh again. And then they were both laughing, and Arthur rolled onto his side and threw an arm around Merlin instead, pulling him close. Merlin rested his head on Arthur’s shoulder.

“You smell of mead,” Arthur murmured into his hair.

“Fuck you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for leaving kudos and comments! They make my day


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support! A small note: everyone in this fic speaks and thinks in modern English because actual, authentic Olde English is basically an entire other language, which I don’t speak, and I’m willing to bet most of you don’t speak either. So Merlin refers to himself as gay here, even though that word didn’t really catch on as slang for homosexual until the 20th century, cause it’s a translation. Also I’m American and I’d rather die than type out some bullshit like ‘bloody hell” so they’re all from metropolitan New York now, die mad about it.

The next day was the Sabbath, and all of the servants were relieved of their duties for the day. Merlin, having had fallen asleep with Arthur and had a rushed morning of sneaking back to Gaius’s house in order to change and cover his tracks, was running late to Mass. He squeezed into a pew just as the choir began to sing the opening hymn and found himself next to Wales’s servants. He noticed that Jonathan was leaning on Etherealle’s shoulder for support while he stood. Merlin thought it was odd, but didn’t realize just how much the boy was favoring his left leg until the congregation knelt, and Jonathan’s whole face went white in agony as he got to his knees. 

After Mass, Merlin couldn’t help himself; he had to ask, even though he feared he already knew the answer. 

“Jonathan,” he said as he caught up with the three of them on their way out of the chapel, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he answered quickly, although not unkindly. “I just tripped.”

Merlin hurried a few steps ahead so he could turn and make eye contact with Jonathan. He took one glance at the look in Merlin’s eye and sighed. 

“Not here, okay? Just- just follow us back to our chambers.”

Once they were behind closed doors, and Etherealle had helped Jonathan sit down, he turned to Merlin. 

“We heard about the feast yesterday,” he started. “I’m really sorry about that.”

Merlin waved away his concern. “Don’t be, it was nothing. Did Wales- I just mean, um, what happened to your leg?”

Jonathan nodded. “Yeah, it was him. I didn’t finish the laundry before he got back last night, and he was wasted and yelling and swinging his sword around. I don’t think he actually meant to hit me, but he definitely meant it when kicked me after I fell.”

“Jesus Christ, man.”

“This is our normal,” Jonathan said bitterly. 

“There’s nothing that can be done,” Benjamin added.

“It builds character,” Etherealle added wryly. 

Merlin shook his head. “Here, let me see your leg. I’m the physician’s nephew, I might be able to help.”

Jonathan rolled his pant leg up and held his leg out to Merlin. 

“How does he justify treating people this way?” Merlin asked, half rhetorically, careful to keep his touch gentle as he seethed at the injustice of it all.

“His divine right to rule, of course,” Jonathan answered, matching his tone.

“How do you mean?”

“The royals were appointed by God Himself,” Benjamin answered. “Their power comes from Him. We were created to serve them so they can keep order and defend Christendom. Right or wrong, it is what it is.”

“What it ‘is’ is bullshit,” Jonathan spat. “There is no God, and if there was, He wouldn’t have anything to do with royalty. Dynasties fall every day, and a new one takes their place. The only thing that gives them power is their armies and our submission.”

Merlin was taken aback. He had never heard anyone speak such passionate blasphemy before, and he was gay sorcerer, so that was saying something. 

“Keep your voice down, boy,” Benjamin scolded. “You’ll get us all hung.”

“You’re complacent, Ben,” Jonathan answered.

“Maybe so. But it’s better than being dead.”

“I’d rather die for my freedom than continue to live in this subhuman submission.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Etherealle swatted. “Our lives are good here.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “You have an unfair advantage in cheer, Esty.”

“I have an _education_ in cheer,” she corrected, as friendly as ever. 

“Etherealle is a fae.” Jonathan explained to Merlin.

Merlin’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “A fae?” he repeated.

She nodded and smiled at him. “In the flesh.”

“You’re not safe here,” Merlin said hastily. “If Uther discovers you can do magic-”

“Oh, I can’t,” she said. “That’s a stereotype that comes from the advanced learning and medicine in our community. We’re actually just careful observers of trial and error.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, slight embarrassed, “Sorry, I, um, I’ve never met a fae before.”

“It’s okay! Not a lot of people have. We’re a very small tribe.”

Merlin nodded awkwardly. He felt a little bit guilty that he had spoken out of turn and show ignorance towards her culture, even though she didn’t seem the least bit offended.

“Anyway,” Etherealle continued, “as I was saying: we have full bellies, warm beds, and we can sing while we work. There is plenty of joy in our lives, even amidst our suffering.”

“That wasn’t my point.”

“Perhaps it should have been.”

“We live under the thumb of an evil man.”

“Wales chooses to use the power he was given to make us feel small. I use the power I was given to disallow him that.”

“Ignoring him doesn’t liberate us.”

“There is no liberation,” Benjamin sighed, as if he’d explained this to Jonathan a hundred times; Merlin had the feeling he probably had. “I’ve served the Duke for 50 years, and my father served his father before that. There is no rebellion. Obedience is the only path that will leave you with enough of a life to make something out of.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jonathan scoffed, “He loves you.”

“Do not use the name of love in vain,” Etherealle started firmly. It was the first time Merlin had heard her use a serious tone, and he was just noticing she was actually quite frightening when she wanted to be. “Not in my presence.”

“Sorry,” Jonathan said, taking a deep breath, “I forgot. I just meant, the Duke has always seemed to like you, Ben.”

“He would like you, too, if you weren’t so hard-headed,” Benjamin answered, but with more affection than admonition. 

“Your leg should feel better now,” Merlin said, standing.

“Thank you, Merlin,” Jonathan said, “I hope you won’t hold our quarreling against us.”

“I’d hardly call it quarreling when the material is so important,” Merlin said. “I’ve never thought so much about the divine mandate of royalty.”

Etherealle smirked. “We talk of it quite often with Jonathan around.”

“Make fun of me all you want,” Jonathan said, smiling back, “I will remain angry until I am heard by those who have made me so.”

The young man stood to shake Merlin’s hand as he left. “Thank you again, my friend. You’re welcome here in our chambers anytime.”

“Likewise,” Merlin returned with a smile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not dead! I just fucked up my antidepressants and have had a bad week. But I’m back now! Sorry this chapter is so short, it seemed longer in my head. I appreciate every single kudo and every single comment, thank you so much for your support.

“Merlin, come on, we’re going to be late,” Arthur called.

“You’re the crown prince. You can’t be late, things only begin when you show up.”

“Fine,” Arthur said, tossing a leather satchel to Merlin as he rounded the corner, “You’re going to be late.”

Merlin caught the bag with a smirk and followed him downstairs. They met the rest of the knights in the great hall, already seated around the round table, piled high with breakfast. They jeered playfully at Arthur and Merlin for being the last to arrive.

“Yeah, yeah,” Arthur waved them off, “Let’s just get down to it. The deer have been scarce lately, I want to use every minute of daylight we have. Has the quest begun?”

“Percival left with the lymer a few minutes ago,” Leon supplied, “Although I’d be surprised if he finds any trail at all, what with that wolf pack that’s been around lately and all.”

“Greedy little shits,” Gwaine said good-naturedly.

“You sound almost proud,” Merlin said, taking a seat next to him and filling a bowl with porridge. 

“They’re wolves; why expect them to show the restraint of a man? They were created to eat deer. The more deer they eat, the more they please their Creator.” 

“And if there’s not enough left for us?” Arthur asked.

Gwaine shrugged. “Not their problem, is it?”

“So what were we created for, oh, great wiseman?” Lancelot teased. 

“Perhaps to ask that very question, my friend,” Leon answered.

“Or perhaps simply to make trouble,” Merlin supplied with a smile.

“Or perhaps simply to make love,” Gwaine shot back at Merlin with a wink.

“Alright,” Arthur said, “That’s enough. Gwaine, go set the dogs up at their relays.”

Merlin and Gwaine shared a laugh before the latter rose to follow Arthur’s orders, ruffling Merlin’s hair as he passed. Flirting with Merlin had been Gwaine’s favorite way to get under Arthur’s skin ever since Merlin had let it slip to Gwaine, after far too much ale one night, just why exactly it bothered the prince so much.

“Well, it’s easy for you, my lord,” Leon said, a mild reproach to his perception of Arthur’s hostility to the topic itself. “You were created to rule us, you don’t have to find another purpose.”

The words were uncomfortably familiar to Merlin. 

“I was created to serve God, uphold his laws, and bring His word to all that I can, as were all of you.” Arthur answered firmly. “Now if you would all stop blathering on about questions you already know the answer to, we might actually have the opportunity to catch a fucking deer today.”

Merlin rolled his eyes at Arthur’s blind piety of honor and followed him and the knights outside to mount their courses. Although their relative small size allowed the courses to run faster than most horses, they still couldn’t keep up with the running hounds, and so the party followed the barking up ahead at a distance while the icy wind whipped through their hair. 

“Why are we even out here?” asked Gwaine, who had circled back to join the rest of them and lead them along the deer’s trail. His teeth were chattering and there was ice in his eyebrows. “We can’t dine on meat until Christmas, anyway.”

“For the love of sport,” Arthur answered, and then, more quietly, “And because Wales has requested a fresh, ritual kill for supper next Sabbath.”

The knights protested collectively.

“That man,” Gwaine growled.

“For a man so passionate about his divine mandate, he doesn’t set much store by Scripture, does he?” Lancelot added wryly. 

“Unless we somehow missed that part of the Scripture in which Christ says to treat your servants like shit.” Merlin joked darkly. 

Gwaine cursed. “God, I’m sorry, Merlin. Look at us whining about a hunt when you’ve been treated worse than the rest of us combined.”

Merlin shrugged.

“He’s just wrong about all of it!” Lancelot seethed. “It’s our job as noblemen to care for and protect the lesser classes, not _abuse_ them. He’s an embarrassment to the nobility.”

“One of Wales’ servants rejects the divine mandate altogether,” Merlin said, remembering his conversation with Jonathan a few days ago. “He told me there is no God and our whole society is built on the illusion of power.”

“Great,” Arthur huffed, “So the whole Dukedom is made up of crazy people.”

“They’re both wrong,” Lancelot said firmly. “Our God is real, and He is good, and He wouldn’t create an entire group of people to abuse another. We are shepherds of the common people, not jailers.”

“Regardless of the Almighty’s ineffable intentions,” Gwaine said, “I, myself, will not allow Wales to lay a hand on any servant in this castle as long as he resides here.”

“Seconded.” Lancelot agreed.

“Amen,” Leon said.

“You let us know if he so much as glances at you with ill intent, Merlin,” Gwaine said to him seriously. 

Merlin nodded. He appreciated their concern, and although he didn’t need their protection, the sentiment made him feel warm with affection anyway. He knew the knights cared for him, and regarded all the servants with respect. But even in their genuine, heartfelt honor, Merlin couldn’t shake the feeling that they were all- himself included- missing the big picture.

They were upon the deer now, which was slowing from fatigue. Arthur called off the dogs and held up his hand to the rest of the party. As highest ranking member of the hunting party, it was he would make the kill. Not the dogs who had been bred for this very purpose, or the knights who had run the entire hunt right at his side. Not Merlin, who cared for their horses and their heavy winter clothes, ensuring the hunt could take place, and not even Wales, for whom the deer was to be sacrificed in this season of peace and joy. Instead, Arthur advanced slowly towards the deer, because every man present looked to him as their superior; and the deer, who knew none of this, still tried desperately to escape, having the audacity to believe in the worth of its own life even in the face of Arthur’s divine authority.

But the deer itself eats grass that could feed another if he were to go without, Merlin mused. And if a man did not take his life, it is likely that a wolf would anyway. There is no consumption in this world without taking from another, and whatever one lived _for_ _,_ there was no doubt every creature, from the smallest of insects to the great and powerful kings, _must_ consume in order to continue to live.

The deer took an arrow through its beating heart and cried out as it died. The knights convened, and cleaned the kill ritualistically, according to traditions older than themselves. They threw scraps to the dogs to reinforce that this outcome was desired, and the dogs were reinforced in their belief that this behavior was the way to keep themselves well fed and cared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is keeping track of the historical accuracy:
> 
> There is debate as to whether or not English noblemen would have eaten breakfast. Many websites, cookbooks, and blogs list “breakfast foods” alongside other meals, even detailing which class would have eaten what. On the other hand, there is a citation on Wikipedia from an article by a culinary ethnographer that says the upper classes would have eaten only two meals, flexing how they don’t require the extra energy because they don’t do manual labor, and expressing piety through self-denial. It even goes so far as to say the upper class would be ashamed to show “weakness” by breaking their nightly fast so early in the day. 
> 
> TL;DR: Wikipedia contradicted itself, what was I supposed to do?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, this one’s gonna split the crowd. Get your opinions out folks, I want to hear what you think, good or bad.

After the hunt, Merlin returned to Gaius’s, frozen nearly solid, and stoked the fire until it roared. He was just beginning to regain the feeling in his fingers when there was a knock at the door. When he opened it, he saw Etherealle, smiling, with a bouquet of flowers.

“Oh, wow, hi,” Merlin said, surprised. “Please, come in.”

“Hi!” she said cheerfully. “I just stopped by to thank you for treating Jonathan the other day. In my culture, we give these flowers in gratitude to healers when they help someone we love.”

Merlin was taken aback. No one had ever thanked him before. 

“The petals can ease a fever if kept under the tongue,” she continued, “and can enhance spirituality when boiled as tea.”

“Thank you, this is- hang on,” he had just processed the latter part of her statement, “they get you high?”

Etherealle blushed. “That’s another way to put it, yeah.”

Merlin laughed. The more time he spent with Etherealle, the more he liked her. 

“Well, I was just about to put a kettle on, would you like to stay?”

She smiled. 

*

Merlin didn’t know how long he’d been laughing for, but he thought it might have been forever. 

“And-and then Jonathan said, ‘I don’t care if you _are_ a knight, these are my chickens and they will do as I say!’” Etherealle was telling him breathlessly.

Merlin was trying to catch his breathe amidst the fits of laughter. 

“So, you’ve- you’ve known Jonathan a long time, then?” he managed finally. 

“Oh, yeah, we grew up together.”

“Is he Fae as well?”

“No, no,” she said with a chuckle, “He just had a tendency to run off into the woods, and ended up near the edge of my parents’ land often enough that we became good friends.”

“He must have been quite the nuisance to your people.”

Etherealle laughed, “Oh, stars, no. We welcome all to our community, as long as they can follow the rules. Most people can’t, which is how we’ve earned the reputation for inhospitality, but Jonathan,” she shook her head, “he’s special. The love came naturally to him.”

That piqued Merlin’s interest. “What do you mean, ‘rules’?”

“My people are kind, and we are all equal. When people come in from the outside, they tend to mistreat our women and artisans, or hold themselves above us as ‘Christians’. We’ve had many a stranger come stay with us, only to try to change our ways,” Etherealle explained, sounding sad, “We love strangers, we really do. They represent a chance to learn to love another person entirely from scratch, which is so exciting, and offers us all the opportunity to grow. But we can’t welcome them at the expense of our own ways. We’ve lost many potential friends to their own stubborn belief that they must change us in order to live with us as neighbors.”

Merlin thought about that; it was different from the stories he’d heard about the Fae- that they were a stupid, uncivilized community that rejected the Word of God- but it made sense when it was all put together. He could relate to slander against one’s people. He wanted to learn everything he could about the Fae, he decided; but he wanted to learn from Etherealle, not from the hateful rumors that circled the pubs.

“What else is wrong with the stories that are told about the Fae?”

Etherealle’s eyes sparked, and she smiled at him. “ _Everything_.”

And so Merlin sat on the clouds that the tea had formed in his mind and listened to Etherealle weave the tapestry of her people. 

The Fae were a religious community who worshipped love instead of God. From birth, they were encouraged in anything that brought them joy, and educated in the ways of all the different nations of the world in order to be better able to understand and love any person they might ever come into contact with. Every Fae child knew how to read and write by the age of 5, and had read not only their own scriptures, but those of the Christians, Jews, Saracens, and the people of Cathay by the time they were 14. At that age, they were given the choice between further education (in medicine, alchemy, or history) and service. Etherealle, having chosen service, had many friends who had chosen the same, but taken up vastly different missions. A few had begun preparation for marriage and child-rearing (which, in itself, apparently required extensive education), others had taken up traditional charity with widows and orphans, and still others traveled the world to find new peoples to understand and love. Etherealle herself had chosen to join Jonathan in his service to Wales, knowing that he was unlikely to find joy in the endeavor otherwise.

“So, since you’ve chosen to accompany Jonathan, you can never marry?” Merlin asked. It sounded like a harsh and lonely system.

“Well, yes and no. I will never be married, but by my community’s standards, marriage is a vocation focused on raising children, with the love between spouses forming a sort of background to the happiness of the children. It’s important, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not the focus.” 

Merlin nodded. This part sounded similar enough to their own customs.

“The training that potential parents go through is intense, and about half of the students either drop out or are disqualified before they actually marry. The system ensures that every child grows up in a happy, loving home, which is the most important step to becoming an adult who is dedicated to love and joy.” she explained. “There are other kinds of relationships available for people who love each other, but don’t want children. The most common is Bonding, which is very similar to what you would think of as marriage, but without the begetting of children, and without the expectation of permanence.”

Merlin frowned. That sounded like the exact opposite of marriage. “So what’s left?”

Etherealle smiled. “Love, of course.” 

“So, you mean... they’re fornicators?”

Etherealle sighed. “Yes, that is the word your religion tends to use for us. But we don’t look at these relationships as a function of the lack of self-control, we look at them as love in its purest form: love simply for the sake of love.”

“How do you prevent them from begetting children?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

Merlin almost snorted. What else did he ever do?

“Believe me, I can.”

“Okay,” she started slowly, “This part is the reason that we’re hunted so often by the Christians. And it’s often seen by outsiders as perverted, so please try to understand before you pass judgement.”

Merlin nodded. 

“When I told you we don’t do magic, that’s not entirely true. There is a kind of alchemy that our women use to avoid pregnancy, and although there is no spell casting or supernatural action of any kind involved, we can’t exactly explain why it works. We just know that it does. But, and this is the big one, you can never tell another soul, okay?”

Merlin nodded again, on the edge of his seat.

“We encourage most Bonds to be made between homosexuals. Those who aren’t happy in those relationships are the only ones who we use pregnancy prevention techniques on.”

That was... not the answer Merlin had been expecting. It took him a second to understand what she had said. He was- well, a lot of things. Mostly floored, turning the words over and over in his mind until they made sense. The idea of a whole society- a whole _community_ \- of people who weren’t afraid, or disgusted, or violent towards... he shook his head. It was too good to be true; it wasn’t worth exploring. 

“But that’s wrong,” Merlin said, “God didn’t create love for the sake of love, he created it for the begetting of children.”

 _People like me are misusing it, and we’ll be punished for that one day._ Merlin added silently. He had suffered his entire life for not being able to uphold the ways of the Church. He had been born broken, with magic and an unnatural affection for men, and unable to deny himself from acting upon either. He’d accepted long ago that he was too weak to ever scrounge up a happy ending for himself; Heaven and Hell aside, he’d seen enough sorcerers and sodomites burned to know that even in this life, he was doomed.

Etherealle raised her eyebrows, and spoke more carefully. “That’s the opinion of your tradition, Merlin. It’s not an indisputable fact. I’ve never understood the Christian need to give the forces of nature a divine agenda, quite frankly.”

First Jonathan, now her. Speaking of the Church as if it could be _wrong_. Speaking of Merlin as if he could be _right_. 

“The things that abound around us _are_ God, to us. It’s not a person, but the manifestation of all the matter in the universe. God manifests itself as, among all the other things, love. Generations of our scholars have studied and discussed and they’ve discovered that love is the most beautiful thing that God manifests itself _as_ , and so we’ve dedicated ourselves to its cultivation.”

Merlin still couldn’t accept the things Etherealle was saying. It sounded too easy, a religion without fear, guilt, or inferiority. It didn’t sound like religion at all, it sounded like the _denial_ of religion. It sounded like a denial of Christ, of the king, of- of _everything_. 

He pushed his doubts to the back of his mind, for now. He still had so many more questions.

“You said Bonding was the most common relationship. What are the others?”

“Well, for one, there’s Companionship. That’s kind of like, um, a really close friendship, I guess. There are some extra ceremonies and customs, but that’s probably the best way to explain it. Jonathan and I are Companions. And there are Mentors, who are older people without children who take a young adult with the same vocation as themselves under their wing to help cultivate a love for it within them.“

Merlin nodded. This part made sense to him, and it even sounded kind of nice. It would be pretty cool to have an official title as someone’s best friend or favorite student. He supposed it must feel very special, and, then again, he supposed that was the point. 

“So what do all your unmarried women do all day?”

Etherealle shrugged. “Pretty much the same stuff as the men. They farm, they study, they make art. Some of them are artisans, or administrators. That’s another reason people think we do magic: we have almost twice the output of food as any other society nearby. And some of our women are governors.”

“But it’s not magic- just twice the workforce?”

Etherealle nodded, smiling proudly. 

Merlin thought it was interesting that the women were put in charge of things. But he supposed that a woman without children could run a town pretty well; after all, it was the woman of the castle who organized the servants and the comings and goings of guests. A society- especially one without conflict, as the Fae seemed to be- couldn’t be much different than that. And while it seemed unladylike for a woman to work beside the men, having twice as many people working certainly seemed to ensure full bellies all winter long. That alone far outweighed any of the possible negative outcomes of this quirk in their community. 

“Your people are... strange,” Merlin said, “but you also seem quite happy.”

“Oh, we are,” Etherealle answered.

“You must care about Jonathan an awful lot to have left such a place.”

She smiled fondly. “Oh, I do.”

Merlin laughed appreciatively. He tried to imagine a world ruled by love, instead of by God’s Word. Once again, it seemed too good to be true. But, apparently, it wasn’t. And, even if it was, it couldn’t hurt to dream of, he figured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is reacting to all of these ideas after hearing them for the first time, in a world where the Church controls all the information he’s ever been taught. They would have been literally unthinkable to him before Etherealle said them out loud. Cut him some slack with maybe not having the most politically correct initial reactions.
> 
> ”Cathay” = Asia  
> “Alchemy” = the forerunner of modern-day science, because science was mostly put together for the first time in Europe in 17th century France. Although alchemy is traditionally focused on the ability to turn lead into gold (like the sorcerer’s stone), it fostered a system of study that could be called a rudimentary version of chemistry. It’s through these practices that I let the Fae develop birth control (that works pretty much like modern birth control pills) while maintaining vague plausibility.  
> Getting high = yes, Merlin would be familiar with this concept (he wouldn’t have used this slang for it but again- translation). Cannabis and opium were brought to medieval Europe on the Silk Road and would have been rare, but well established in common knowledge. Since it was so rare, it was probably found most abundantly among the upper classes, so I like to think that due to Merlin’s close association with Arthur and the knights, this wouldn’t be his first rodeo.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before the late 19th/early 20th century, homosexuality was something a person did, not an identity they held. However, I play around a bit with that idea, because I feel like it’s malleable in terms of the human psyche. Theft is something a person does, and yet there is such a thing as a thief. Not every 14 year old shoplifting lipgloss from 7-11 would identify themselves as a thief, but two career criminals sharing a prison cell would probably find kinship in their shared fondness of elaborate heists. So, yeah, a person who had been with someone of the same sex once or twice as an adolescent would probably not define themselves in those terms, but two adults who have been in multiple, long-term same-sex romantic relationships may. The history on this stuff has been destroyed by agendas and censorship for thousands of years, so we can’t really know. But I’d like to think of this chapter as a respectable, educated guess.

Two Summers Ago

Shortly after the moon had risen, Merlin realized he’d forgotten to bring the prince’s laundry back to his chambers after washing it. If he’d learnt anything in the past month, it was that the royal douchebag didn’t like to be kept waiting, so Merlin dragged himself out of bed and trudged down to the prince’s chambers to avoid hearing about it in the morning. Thinking the prince probably asleep by now, he entered without knocking.

That was, evidently, a mistake, because Arthur was not asleep. In fact, both he and the shirtless knight he was on top of seemed very much awake.

Merlin stumbled over his own feet trying to back out of the room, but they’d already seen him.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I just came to drop off your laundry I didn’t see anything I swear-”

But it was too late. The knight scrambled back into his clothes, embarrassed, while Arthur seemed to have bypassed surprise, fluster and embarrassment and gone straight to fury.

“Michael, go,” Arthur told the knight, “I’ll deal with this.”

The knight- Sir Michael- hurried out of the room as Arthur stalked towards Merlin, grabbing his shirt roughly and holding his back against the wall.

“Sire, please, I-”

“You are never to enter my chambers without knocking.”

Merlin nodded frantically. 

“Do you understand your place in this castle, Merlin? You have no right to be here. You are here only at the discretion of me and my father and you shall learn your place. You are the most lazy, insolent commoner who has ever served Camelot and I swear-”

“I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“I can’t be sure of that!” Arthur thundered. “Do you have any idea what is at stake for me here?”

Merlin said nothing. He didn’t want to make the prince any angrier, but it wasn’t just that; he was in between fear and sympathy. He had never gotten caught before, but he’d seen it in enough nightmares to understand what was going through Arthur’s head at the moment.

Arthur sighed and stepped away. He ran a hand though his hair and shook his head.

“I should kill you,” Arthur said quietly. He didn’t sound angry anymore. He just sounded tired. “That would be the smartest thing to do. Slit your throat right now, so you never even walk out of this room.”

A second passed, and then another, and another. 

“I’m not going to beg for my life.” Merlin said, cautiously, matching Arthur’s volume.

Arthur sat down on the edge of the table and put his head in his hands. He took a few ragged breaths, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and gravelly. “You’ve just ruined everything, Merlin.”

Merlin took a step toward him, but remained standing. “I really am sorry, sire.”

And he was. Maybe Arthur had been a pain in the ass, but he didn’t deserve this. The fear, the humiliation, the loneliness of this life- Merlin had known it well in Ealdor. It certainly wasn’t an excuse for him to be such an asshole, but maybe it was an explanation. And maybe that was enough for now.

Arthur finally lifted his head from his hands. “You have the most power over me that anyone’s ever had, now. You could end my life with a word.”

That sounded familiar to Merlin. He bit back a comment about how his class lived that way from day to day, though, because he understood where Arthur was right now.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Merlin said again.

“It doesn’t matter,” Arthur said, “because you always could.”

Merlin had never particularly liked the prince, but he knew him to be a good and honorable man. He was a jackass, but not a tyrant, and most importantly to Merlin right now, apparently the two of them were kin in this one, hidden way. One unlocked door, one misstep and it could have been Merlin on the other end of this. To see another man trapped in a shared waking nightmare was breaking Merlin’s fragile, self-sacrificing, idiot little heart, and that was the excuse he would use forevermore to explain the absolutely, profoundly stupid thing he did next.

Merlin whispered an incantation and moved an empty chair across the room. 

Arthur jumped up as if he’d been burned, and stared with wide eyes. It took him a second to process what had just happened, understandably, as he clearly had a lot on his mind at the moment.

“What the fuck.”

Merlin stood silently, trying to look as brave as he had felt a few seconds ago.

“You’re a sorcerer.”

“I’m a sorcerer,” Merlin confirmed.

“I’m the _prince_ , Merlin, why the fuck would you- would you- _why-_ ”

“Because,” Merlin said, “now, you could end _my_ life with a word.”

Understanding dawned in Arthur’s eyes.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Think I might be.”

“ _Jesus Christ_ , Merlin.”

Merlin gave him a small smile.

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. And just like that, the tension fell from his shoulders. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief in camaraderie with the prince. Whatever else his royalty held over Merlin’s head, in this way, they were brothers, and when one of them went safely on to live another day, it was a victory for them both.

Arthur stood up and walked up to Merlin, who noticed that, close up, the man wasn’t so scary after all. In fact, Merlin was half an inch taller than him.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Arthur said, shaking his hand.

And that’s how Arthur and Merlin became equals. A few months went by and they became friends as well. Merlin eventually confessed he’d been with a man as well, and Arthur pointed out that he could’ve just said that instead of the whole magic thing, and Merlin turned the chair Arthur was sitting on into water in order to avoid thinking about how he was probably right. 

Through sleepless nights under siege to the festivities of the summer tournaments, Arthur and Merlin became so used to the comfort of being at each other’s side that any separation at all began to seem wholly unnatural. Ironic, Merlin often thought, because it was the slowly growing feeling that drew him to Arthur which was actually unnatural; then again, Arthur’s word was divinely inspired as well, and he seemed to feel the same way, at times. The specifics of the contradiction made Merlin’s head hurt, and given how terrifying the whole thing was ideologically, he usually just opted not to think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s short and sweet, I just wrote it to unwind. I’m not abandoning this fic for all the money in the world, but updates might be coming a little slower in the future. I’m putting most of my time and effort into Black Lives Matter for the time being; I hope that you guys are doing as much as your schedules, mental health, and budgets can handle as well. Stay safe out there. #Saytheirnames


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had a monumentally shitty week. Please enjoy this very specific kink I have.

A Few Months Later

Merlin supported Arthur as he stumbled drunkenly up the stairs. He wasn’t much help, though, considering he was almost as drunk as Arthur was.

“Wait, wait.” Arthur slurred as he fell onto his bed and Merlin knelt down to undo his shoes. “No- Merlin, stop. You- you shouldn’t have to do this.”

“What do you- _hic_ \- what do you mean, sire?”

“That!” Arthur said, pointing vaguely in Merlin’s direction. He pulled him up from his knees to sit beside him on the bed. They were close now, touching from shoulder to knee. “You don’t have to call me sire.”

“I actually do. Like, by law.”

“Fuck the law!” Arthur said, far too loud. Merlin giggled as he tried to shush him.

“Someone will hear, sire.”

“I’m serious,” Arthur said, managing to sound impressively sober for a moment. “When no one’s around, just- just call me Arthur.”

“Arthur?”

“Yes.”

“Arty?”

“No.”

“Art?”

“Stop.”

Merlin laughed, perhaps longer than a sober man would have, and Arthur eventually joined in as well. They spurred each other on until neither of them could remember what they had been laughing at, and Merlin lay back on the bed, gasping for air.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, getting used to the way it felt to call the prince by his first name. “I kind of like that, actually.”

Arthur leaned back on his elbows, turning his head to look at Merlin. “I like the way it sounds,” he said, “Coming from you, I mean.”

And then their eyes met in the candlelight, and Merlin didn’t remember who leaned in first but suddenly their lips were pressed together and one of Arthur’s hands was in his hair, and the other on his chest, and Merlin could taste the ale on his tongue and knew instantly that this was something he’d wanted for a long time without realizing it. They broke apart breathlessly, and Arthur pressed his forehead against Merlin’s.

“Do you want to-” 

“Yes,” Merlin answered quickly. He held out his hand and locked the chamber doors with magic, and pulled the curtains. The candlelight flickered on Arthur’s face above him. 

“Yes,” he breathed again. “Do you?”

Arthur kissed him in response, hard. Merlin felt warmth rise in him, up from his toes to the crown of his head, that had nothing to do with the ale.

The next morning, Merlin woke up tangled up in Arthur, both of them sweaty and hungover. He held his breath, waiting for Arthur to react poorly, to be shocked and disgusted that he had been so drunk he stooped so low as to screw his serving boy. But as he watched, Arthur woke slowly, scrunching up his nose at the light streaming in through the window. Then, as if slowly becoming aware of Merlin’s weight next to him, he smiled, and blinked open his sparkling blue eyes to look right into Merlin’s. 

“Hey,” he said.

Merlin laughed in relief, and then they both winced in unison. 

“Hey,” he said, with a little bit of a grunt, and a little bit of a smile. “What- um, what do you remember about the feast last night?”

“A lot of food, a few fist fights, and, ya know,” Arthur nuzzled his nose into Merlin’s neck, “the rest of it.”

Merlin leaned into him, and they lay that way for a while. Merlin felt as if he could have laid there forever.

“I have to go to training,” Arthur said eventually.

Merlin groaned.

“That fond of me already, huh?”

“Definitely not. I just have to go get your armor now.”

Arthur laughed. “You know, I distinctly remember you feeling quite differently last night.”

“Oh, do you?”

“You did say yes pretty quickly.”

“Well, I didn’t have a choice, did I? You could’ve executed me if I didn’t.” 

Merlin laughed when he said it, but he didn’t hear Arthur laugh with him. He turned his head to see Arthur’s smile fading.

“Arthur? I’m kidding.”

“No, you’re- you’re right,” he said, his brow furrowing. He sat up.

“What?”

“Merlin, you’re right. I- you couldn’t have said no to me.”

“Of course I could have, I do it all the time.” 

Merlin sat up and put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, but the other man jumped at the touch and stood.

“No, don’t-” Arthur swallowed. “Just- you don’t have to do that.”

Merlin’s brow furrowed. “Arthur, what’s wrong?”

“I’m such an idiot,” Arthur said, softly, but then, again, “I’m such an _idiot_.”

“Okay, look,” Merlin said, starting to feel more and more hurt. “If you want me to go, you can just say-”

“No! No,” Arthur said, “I don’t, I just- we can’t do this.”

Merlin was confused now. “We’re no more likely to get caught with each other than we are with anyone else.”

“It’s not that. It’s- Merlin, I’m royalty, and you’re... not,” he finished lamely.

Merlin didn’t even do Arthur the courtesy of answering, waiting for him to get to the point instead of dignifying the dumbest thing he’d ever heard the prince say with a response.

“You can’t say no to me.” Arthur said quietly. “I have an enormous amount of power over you, I hold your _life_ in my _hands_ and we both know it.”

“Arthur, again, I literally say no to you _all the time_.”

“About stupid shit! About riding behind me on hunts, or how close to the fire to pitch the tent. Not about anything I could have a- a- a _vested interest_ in.”

Merlin smirked. “So, you have a ‘vested interest’ in me, then?”

”Yes,” Arthur said, with guilt, but not embarrassment. “Yes, I do.”

Merlin took a second to take that in, feeling a giddiness rise in him that was totally inappropriate to the conversation they were having right now. He could barely help it, though; he wanted Arthur so badly, and now here he was, freely confessing that he wanted Merlin as well.

“So you’re worried that you forced me, last night.”

“No, I- well, yes.”

“You didn’t. I promise.”

“It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter if you wanted to be with me last night, because you didn’t have a choice. I- I didn’t give you a choice.”

Merlin sat back down and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Arthur’s goddamn honor and chivalry wouldn’t let him see past the confines of their ranks to the obvious magnetism that Merlin felt toward him. The magnetism that they’d _both_ felt last night.

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” Arthur said, quietly, resignedly. “It- it won’t happen again.”

“No,” Merlin said, “Bullshit. Arthur, this is bullshit. I _like_ you. You didn’t force me to do _anything_ last night, in fact, I’m pretty sure I kissed you first.”

He stood and reached out for Arthur’s hand again, and held it even when Arthur tried to pull away. The prince’s fingers twitched toward Merlin’s like he wanted to interlace them with his own, but he swallowed and straightened them instead, holding them dutifully away from Merlin’s as if being so bold as to touch fingertips would hurt his beloved servant.

“I have too much power.” Arthur said, voice breaking.

“Look at me,” Merlin said, tugging his hand when Arthur didn’t turn around right away. Merlin lit up a flame in his free palm. “Do you have any idea how powerful I really am?”

Arthur stalled. “I’ve seen you move things across rooms,” he said cautiously.

The corner of Merlin’s mouth twitched up in a smile. “Sit down.”

Arthur sat on the bed. He stiffened when Merlin sat down, but, to his credit, he didn’t pull away. 

“Okay,” Merlin said, “hold up your hand.”

Arthur complied.

“Now reach for me. Just my shoulder, or my cheek.”

“Merlin-”

“Just. Do it, Arthur.”

Arthur moved his hand forward. Halfway through the space between them, Merlin caught it with his magic, and stopped him.

“Okay?” Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded.

“Okay, now try to move your hand. Push or pull.”

Arthur’s arm flexed, but his hand didn’t move. He tried again, this time harder, until he was using his full strength, and still his hand didn’t move.

“That’s different,” Arthur said.

“How on Earth is it different?”

“It’s just my hand.”

“Fine. Try to kiss me.”

“No.”

“ _Arthur.”_

“ _Merlin_.”

“Trust me.” Merlin whispered. 

Slowly, Arthur leaned towards him. Merlin gently swathed him in magic and held him still. 

“I’m going to keep going, okay?” Merlin asked, lifting the spell so Arthur could nod or shake his head. He nodded.

Merlin pushed Arthur back until he was sitting upright, and then until he was leaning back, a bit awkwardly. Merlin smirked at him. He was teasing Arthur now; Arthur rolled his eyes, seeing the mischief on his face. Merlin urged the spell forward until Arthur was lying on his back, careful to make sure he was comfortable, but also applying just enough pressure, even after he was all the way down, to make his point. Merlin held Arthur there for a second, then let him go.

“See?” Merlin said, “You couldn’t force me to do anything, even if you tried. Which you _didn’t_. And _wouldn’t_.”

Arthur didn’t say anything for a moment, looking shell-shocked and conflicted. But then he looked up at Merlin, who was staring at him like the very sun itself, and all the righteous conflict that was left in him was resolved.

“Shut up,” Arthur said, sitting back up and grabbing Merlin’s face, kissing him like he was coming up for air after drowning.

Merlin laughed into his mouth, which was quite difficult to do around his tongue. “So, you believe me now, then?” 

“Shut up,” Arthur said again, sitting up on his knees to tower over Merlin. “Do that again.”

Arthur never did show up to training that day; a messenger brought word later that he had been ill. Coincidentally, the messenger relayed to the knights’ servants, Merlin had also fallen ill, and wasn’t to be expected at any of his usual duties for the rest of the day. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise bitch. I bet you thought you saw the last of me.

_Present Day_

It was the night before Christmas Eve and Merlin was happily pinned beneath Arthur in his bed, laughing and struggling against him without any real desire to win. Arthur was trying to kiss him, while Merlin was valiantly attempting to continue the story he had been telling before Arthur had gotten so distracted. Both of them were failing in equal measure. 

“So Etheralle told me that-” 

Their lips met and Merlin’s eyes closed, losing himself in Arthur for a moment, before remembering that he was supposed to be annoyed at the rude interruption. He broke away from Arthur and squirmed beneath him, trying to dodge him.

“-her people don’t have a spiritual leader, and all of them can think whatever they want without- mmh- _Arthur_ \- being heretics, and even when they have totally new ideas, no one thinks they’re crazy for it.”

“Fascinating.” Arthur murmured distractedly, giving up his original venture to press kisses along Merlin’s jawline instead.

“My point is- _ah_ \- okay, you know what?”

Merlin summoned a little bit of magic in his right arm and pushed Arthur off of him, flipping him over to his back. Merlin sat up and straddled his hips.

“My point _is_ that they don’t do anything the Church does to maintain social order and they still somehow manage to run their whole society peacefully, and I don’t understand how.”

Arthur looked up, one arm bent behind his head as a pillow, and smiling at Merlin with a hint of exasperation.

“I’m serious!” Merlin said indignantly.

“I know! I just think you’re being a bit... naive, about these pagans. What you just said doesn’t make any sense. What point does a religion serve if everyone can have their own opinions on it?”

Merlin sighed in frustration, looking serious for the first time that night. Arthur sat up on one elbow and rested his other hand on Merlin’s hip.

“I’m not saying that _she’s_ wrong. I just think you’re taking the things she’s telling you out of context,” Arthur said gently, “I know how hard it is for you to live with the threat of being found out over your head all the time. I just think you need to be careful with these people. Authority is authority, and I doubt they’d be any kinder to you than my father, if they knew who you really were.” 

“Do you really believe that, or are you just saying it cause you’re supposed to?”

“Both.”

“It can’t be both, Arthur.”

“Belief and respect for that belief are one and the same. That’s why blasphemy is a crime.”

Merlin sighed.

“I just want you to be careful.” Arthur repeated. 

Merlin looked down at Arthur like one looks at a child telling a story about slaying a dragon.

“You know I’m the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, right? I literally do not need to be careful. Like, ever.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and parroted “most powerful sorcerer to ever live” back at him in a high pitched voice. 

Merlin laughed and shook his head. “You’re an asshole.”

Arthur shrugged and sat up, grabbing Merlin around the waist and pulling him back down with him.

And of course, because the universe was out to get him, Merlin was only happily locked in Arthur’s embrace for what felt like seconds when they heard footsteps outside his chamber door.

It was far too late to explain Merlin’s presence in Arthur’s room without arousing suspicion, they both knew. And with the footsteps far too close for comfort, Arthur unceremoniously pushed Merlin off the bed so he fell out of sight of the door. 

“Arthur,” Uther’s voice came, along with the sound of the door opening, “I’m sorry to wake you, but this is important.”

“What is it, father?” Arthur said, in a convincing imitation of someone who had just woken up. 

“I need you to gather the knights and all of their personal attendants. William has called an emergency meeting.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Yes.”

Merlin could practically hear Arthur roll his eyes. “Father, you can’t be serious. Can’t whatever he has to say wait until the morning?”

“Do not talk back to me, Arthur. Do as I say.”

“But-”

“No buts. I want the entire household in the chapel at once.”

There were more footsteps, and the door closed. 

Arthur sighed. “He’s gone.”

Merlin stood up, disgruntled and rubbing his shoulder where it struck the floor. 

“That hurt, you know.”

“More or less than being burned at the stake?”

Merlin glared.

“C’mon,” Arthur said, standing up and stretching, “Apparently we have a meeting to get to.”

*

The chapel was gloomy with candlelight as the whole population of the castle filed in, yawning and rubbing their eyes. Merlin looked for Etherealle, Jonathan and Benjamin as he filed into the servants’ pews, but he didn’t see them. It was hard to discern faces in the flickering candlelight, though, so he didn’t think much of it. That is, until Wales took his place on the pulpit.

“Good evening.”

As soon as he spoke, Merlin’s blood ran cold. His voice contained none of its usual rude humor and booming authority woven into pomp and circumstance. Only a calm finality rang out through the cold, damp chapel. It said that the game of ego was over, as was Wales’ submission to Uther and, by extension, Arthur. And all at once, it suddenly made perfect sense that this was happening in the middle of the night.

“A great crime has been committed in Camelot tonight.” Wales declared. “And after an emergency meeting with the king, there have been measures put into place, effective immediately, to prevent such an event from occurring ever again.”

“Two of my servants were found together in blasphemy tonight, practicing rituals that clearly and deliberately desecrated the laws of the Bible and of this land.”

Merlin’s heart leaped into his throat. _Etherealle and Jonathan_. He didn’t remember the specifics, but he knew that there were ceremonies associated with Companionship, and he was ready to bet they weren’t all too Christian.

“The king has granted me the authority to deal with this situation as I see fit, but we both agreed that that alone isn’t enough. Disobedience, it is known, spreads through the lower classes like the disease it is. The only cure”- Wales smiled, baring crooked, ugly teeth- “is bloodletting.”

“From now on, all servants in this castle report to me before their masters; Uther has granted me full authority both within and beyond the laws of Camelot to discipline and supervise the castle’s household. And I, as any good servant of our Lord God Jesus Christ, have accepted this duty not for my own sake, but for others. I take upon myself the honor of educating the lower class for the sake of their souls. Now-” 

Wales gestured behind himself with a flourish, and two guards dragged a beaten, bloody figure out from behind the alter. A third guard emerged as well, escorting a flailing, desperate man who was struggling against the embrace of another, clearly attempting to hold the former back from the figure before Wales. Wales grabbed his kneeling victim by the hair and pulled her face up to show the congregation. 

“Educational decree number one.”

Merlin’s heart stopped: the figure before Wales was Etherealle.


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur had shouldered his way onto the alter before Merlin could even form a coherent thought.

“You can’t do this.”

He didn’t even get within arms reach of Wales before, from the front pew, Uther’s voice yelled out “Guards!” and Arthur was stopped.

Arthur looked at his father in disbelief; Uther met his eyes, unyielding. And from the servants’ pews, Merlin watched as Arthur’s face fell, as years of his excuses for Uther finally failed him. At last, he saw Uther for what he really was. 

“William is now your superior in all matters related to the lower class. You will not interfere.”

Arthur half whispered, pleading with Uther to prove him wrong, giving him one last chance to wake Arthur like a child from a nightmare and reassure him that all was well after all: “Dad?” 

At that moment, there was a scream from the other side of the alter. It seemed that Jonathan had finally freed himself from Benjamin and launched himself towards Etheralle, only to be met with the butt of Wales’ sword smashing down on his temple. He crumpled and lay still. The scream was Benjamin’s.

Etherealle reached for Jonathan, but was yanked back again by Wales. 

“Easy, girl,” he sneered, “The Christian will be let off with a warning if he cooperates. It’s not his fault that your pagan charm went straight to his dick.”

Etherealle whimpered. To accuse a Fae of having relations with their companion was, Merlin knew, horrific and backwards; it was akin to an accusation of incest to them. 

“This pagan,” Wales declared to the room at large, “must be made an example of.”

He threw Etherealle to the floor in front of him and kicked her, hard, in the ribs. 

Merlin was paralyzed with fear and horror. If he stepped in now, the magic would be obvious, and Etherealle would take the blame. But if he did nothing- _another kick landed, this time to her face, and she let out a heart-wrenching moan_ \- Wales would kill her. Merlin cast around desperately for a solution- _Wales pulled a dagger from his belt and knelt down besides Etherealle on one knee_ \- when his eyes rested on the candles in front of the alter. Without allowing himself to think it through, Merlin whispered an incantation, and fire roared up and consumed the chapel. 

Instantly, the room burst into panic, and in the stampede of bodies, Merlin was able to push his way up to the alter and grab Etherealle from Wales’ grasp. In his haste to flee, the Duke put up no fight, and Merlin was able to pull her to her feet and sling her arm around his shoulders. 

“No,” she choked as he led her out of the flames, “Jonathan.”

“Right behind you,” came Arthur’s voice. Merlin turned and saw him carrying the still-unconscious Jonathan over his shoulder, followed closely by Benjamin, whose face was streaked with tears and soot. 

Benjamin and Etherealle made eye contact. 

“I’m so sorry,” Benjamin sobbed, “I did my best. I just wanted you to be safe, both of you- fighting would have only made it worse, I tried to tell Jonathan but he wouldn’t listen-”

“Not now,” Etherealle said, hard, but not angry, “We need to get out of here, right now. There will be time for this later.”

“She’s right,” Arthur said, pushing in front of Merlin and Etherealle to, presumably, charge bravely through the flames headfirst, which Merlin would have found endearing if it wasn’t for the general, well, let’s call it negativity, of the current situation. Instead, he just exhaled an incantation and a path through the flames cleared before Arthur, allowing all five of them to escape without being burned.

As soon as they were safe, Merlin stepped forward and caught Arthur’s eyes. 

“They’re not safe here,” he said.

Arthur looked back at him helplessly.

“I know.”

“The woods?”

“They won’t survive. Etherealle and Jonathan are too badly hurt.”

“Gaius?”

“That’s the first place Wales will look.”

“It’s our best shot.”

Arthur swallowed and nodded. He followed Merlin’s lead and a minute later they barged their way into Gaius’ house without knocking.

“Merlin, I heard screaming, what is- what the hell happened?” Gaius said, taking in the injured parties before him. 

“There’s no time to explain.” Merlin said. “Can you help us?”

“Of course. Lay the gentleman down here on the table, Arthur. Merlin, you can give the young lady your bed.” 

Merlin led Etherealle into his room and set her gently down on his bed before rushing back out into the main room.

“Arthur, we need-”

The look on Arthur’s face stopped him in his tracks. Merlin felt a stab of empathy for the pain he must be in; Uther had just essentially disowned him before the entire castle.

Merlin took Arthur by the arm and led him away a little bit so they could speak with some privacy.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Arthur looked lost. He nodded distractedly, staring past Merlin without really seeing him.

“Hey,” Merlin said, shaking his arm to get his attention. Arthur’s eyes focused on his own. “I am so, so sorry. But I need you right now. Okay? _We_ need you.”

Arthur swallowed and nodded again, this time with far more focus behind it.

“I need as much time as you can buy us. And all the knights we can trust, for backup.”

A small movement that would have perhaps been a smile in another circumstance passed across Arthur’s face. “Yes, sire.”

“Shut up,” Merlin said. He squeezed Arthur’s hand. “Go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s been months since I updated. And I probably would have abandoned this fic if it weren’t for all the comments. Communicating with you guys is so valuable to me, it makes me feel like I’m actually connecting with others rather than just talking to myself on here. Thank you for all your support, whatever happens from here on out literally would not exist without y’all.


	11. Chapter 11

Barely 5 minutes later, Gwaine burst into Gaius’ house.

“Merlin!” he rushed over. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Merlin answered distractedly, without looking up from where he was treating the still-unconscious Jonathan, “They haven’t found us yet.”

Leon, Percival, and Elyan filed in as well, and when Merlin looked up, he saw that both Gwaine and Elyan were sporting black eyes and swollen lips.

“Jesus,” Merlin breathed, “He got to you guys, too?”

“No,” said Gwaine, looking harshly at Elyan, “Elyan just took it upon himself to hold me back from ripping Wales’ throat out myself.”

“He would have _killed_ you,” Elyan responded.

“He was going to kill the girl!”

“Enough,” Percival said. Merlin noticed he and Leon were slightly beaten up as well; he couldn’t help but be more than a little impressed with Gwaine.

“Merlin, we’re here to help. What do you need from us?”

“I need- um-” Merlin hadn’t thought that far yet. Since he’d first walked into the chapel, everything he had managed to do had come directly from his survival instincts. Come to think of it, Merlin couldn’t come up with a single idea of how to move forward from this point.

“A distraction.” Gaius said. He hadn’t been in the chapel, as he was neither nobility nor a servant, but Merlin had briefed him shortly before the knights arrived. 

“Right,” Merlin said, grateful to Gaius for giving him the jumping off point. _Why isn’t the resident wise old man in the room in charge of all this?_ Merlin asked himself. _Oh, right,_ he remembered. Because Merlin was sleeping with the prince. And apparently that puts one in charge of things, even when it’s a secret. “A big one. We need Wales to forget that Jonathan and Etherealle escaped, or at least confront him with a big enough problem that he decides they aren’t worth the resources it would take to recapture them.”

“Got it,” Gwaine said, already halfway out the door, “I have an idea.”

Percival tried to grab his sleeve, but he was already gone. 

“Okay, new plan.” Merlin said. “The distraction is Gwaine’s job. Your job- the three of you- is to _keep Gwaine alive_. Got it?”

All three of them grumbled.

“Fine,” Elyan said. 

There was a loud crash somewhere down the corridor.

“Fuck,” Percival said.

The knights filed out. Merlin turned back to Jonathan.

“If I may,” Benjamin approached hesitantly from the bedroom, where he had been tending to Etherealle. He gestured shyly at the cool rag Merlin had been dabbing Jonathan’s forehead with, and Merlin readily handed it over, crossing the room to help Gaius mix salves instead.

He picked up a bowl of herbs and pretended to ignore the way Gaius was looking at him with one eyebrow raised.

“What?” he finally caved.

“A big distraction?” Gaius prodded, in the tone he always used to let Merlin know that they both know Merlin’s about to do something stupid, but neither of them have the ability to stop it at this point.

“It was your idea,” Merlin deflected casually.

“Yes, but I worry what it is you’re going to come up with in that head of yours, Merlin.”

“Whatever it is, just remember,” he said seriously, looking Gaius in the eyes, “it’s basically your fault.”

Gaius smacked him lightly on the back of the head.

“Ow!”

“Well, that one was your fault.”

Merlin rubbed the back of his head and smiled wryly at Gaius. He did, in fact, have the beginnings of an idea so bad it just might work, but there was no need to worry Gaius with that now. He would know when it happened, anyway. Everyone would.


End file.
